Lost Lover's Glen
by snsandsnsibility
Summary: ONE SHOT. Elizabeth has been pent up in Netherfield and simply needs to get out. However, her walk goes a little bit awry and leads to some interesting conversation with Mr. Darcy.


_**Lost Lover's Glen**_

Elizabeth Bennett loved her sister more than anyone else in the world. She did _not_ love anyone else currently residing at Netherfield. So it happened that her feet were quickly moving away from the house and _certain_ members of the household while her heart still swelled with contentment that her Jane was finally well enough to be downstairs with the ever attentive Mr. Bingley. Even if that blessing included the company of his snobby sisters and imperious friend. At least she could trust Jane to be well cared for in that group while she walked out. She, certainly had no desire to stay in their company any longer.

The whole of her time at Netherfield caring for Jane had felt like battle. Every meal, every evening spent together in the drawing room had seemed to end up with Elizabeth defending herself from the denigrating comparisons of Miss Caroline Bingley or the censure of Mr. Darcy. Even as she walked, Elizabeth huffed out a breath as she remembered the conversation about what made an accomplished woman. She couldn't help the laugh that overflowed as she remembered Miss Bingley's claim of a woman's manner of walking being "accomplished". Well then, Elizabeth certainly must be a more accomplished walker than Miss Bingley even if she had no claim to any of the other talents that a gentlewoman was generally supposed to cultivate. Miss Bingley rarely left the house while they were in Hertfordshire but still made the foolish statement as if taking turns around rooms was sufficient for true "proficiency" in walking - an idea Elizabeth still thought was the height of foolishness.

With that amusing thought, Elizabeth rounded the gardens toward Netherfield's wilderness which was situated on the very far side of the sculpted gardens. She enjoyed cultivated flowers and shrubs as much as anyone but her soul longed for more open space and natural scenery. That was where she might get a moment of peace before having to be polite to a group of people who thought themselves her superiors.

A few more yards brought her to the boundaries of the wilderness. Pausing as she stepped into that place, Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air itself seemed cleaner, fresher, than it did just a short distance behind her in the drawing room occupied by Netherfield's residents. "This is definitely what I need. A moment to clear my head, a moment to myself," Elizabeth thought as she began walking in solitude.

It had been many years past since nature and walking had been Elizabeth's solace. Her parents' tumultuous relationship was not something that could be withstood for very long and the only option to leave the house was to walk. The practice of which soon became time for self reflection, meditation, and examination of a particular problem or piece of information that she had read recently. While none of her sisters was as inclined to walk as she was, occasionally, one of them would join her and it became precious time to bond with her siblings. So it was that Elizabeth's thoughts skipped and jumped from her own experiences at Longbourn to imagining what kinds of relationships were developed and nurtured on Netherfield's lands. There had not been an established family there as long as Elizabeth could remember but some of the older residents of Meryton still spoke of the old family and the parties and goings on of the old days.

One of the stories from the old days was a lover's glen that had been built by a previous owner as a gift to his wife. The trees and plants were all chosen to please this lady along with some rustic seats for longer enjoyment of this space. A younger Elizabeth thought it was the height of romance to hear such stories from her aunt, Mrs. Phillips, and Mrs. Long, two of the only ladies who still remembered that older couple. Even Mrs. Bennet was too much younger than her sister Mrs. Phillips to have anything other than the vaguest of recollections. The couple, Mr. and Mrs. Percival, had used the smaller estate as their more centralized country home when their children had grown and married around the south of England. It had even been speculated that the elderly Mrs. Percival had died in that secret lover's glen and only discovered when her husband came searching for her. Even at that young age, Elizabeth could only sigh for a family that might love each other with the freedom and abandon that the stories seemed to suggest from the Percival family.

Throughout these musings, Elizabeth had continued deeper into the wilderness and into a bordering wood. While it was certainly not well kept, there was just enough of a path to give her a guide for her walk. After a few more minutes walk, a flash of color caught Elizabeth's eye off to the right of the path. Turning to explore, she pushed through several low hanging tree branches to find herself in a small clearing that could only be the Percival's lover's glen. The trees were now majestic and bright with turning leaves. In the space between the roots were some still blooming wildflowers, a rarity this late in the fall.

Breathing out her wonder, Elizabeth turned slowly taking it all in. Besides the flowers and trees, there were several small benches scattered around the space. They seemed to have been specifically placed to enjoy the sun or shade depending on the time of year. Even in the midst of autumn, Elizabeth noticed one of the benches was in the sun and sat on it to enjoy the place. She continued looking about her and noticed one of the larger trees in the clearing had several boards secured to its trunk in a stair pattern. Once she left her seat to explore, Elizabeth could see that the "stairs" lead up to a small wooden platform in the middle of the tree.

Elizabeth was no stranger to tree climbing (an accomplishment she zealously kept hidden). The additional benefit of the previous owner's modifications made the decision to ascend the tree irresistible despite a half formed concern over the integrity of such old timber. Stepping gingerly on each step up the tree trunk, Elizabeth found her head emerging in a little hideaway in the middle of the tree.

Drawing in a deep breath at the wonder of what she was continually finding, she realized the tree branches had grown in such a way that there was a little platform invisible to the ground. It wasn't large but it was enough to sit one comfortably. Once settled in that spot, Elizabeth raised her eyes to take in the bower. The tree spread its limbs outward and upward just as joyfully as she felt. Although it seemed as silly a thought as her younger sisters might have, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since someone had enjoyed such a place and if the glen was happy to have company again. It was exactly the type of place that she would have loved to read in, think in, and enjoy being outside in. The greenness and life that was still so visible all around her seemed to be magical. Laughing out loud at her silliness, another sound quickly became obvious. The unmistakable crunch of boots were coming from nearby.

The sounds were definitely getting closer although direction was impossible to discern from her perch. Elizabeth, muttering at her own foolishness for delaying here, tried to start back down the wooden stairs. But the care she took on her way up was less possible on her way down and without warning, a plank gave way suddenly. A sharp crack was all the warning Elizabeth had before she quickly dropped straight down to the ground. The height was not high but the fall was awkward and the shooting pain in her ankle made it very clear that it was not a good landing.

Elizabeth Bennet loved her sister more than tree climbing. Spraining her ankle while freely roaming around their host's property was not a good way to show such a love. The stifled cry that Elizabeth was unable to suppress was expressive of so much more than pain. Her mother and younger sisters had already made such a spectacle of their family on the few occasions they had been together! To make matters worse, the boot steps that she had heard just before her fall paused briefly before definitely getting closer to her. There was almost no possible way the situation could get any worse.

The realization that she herself might harm her sister's chances of happiness with a bad impression made her straighten her back and slowly attempt to put weight down on her sprained ankle. There were enough family members to blush for without her having to admit to spraining her ankle while climbing a tree when she should have been tending her sister. Her courage rising, Elizabeth tried a small step away from the tree. It was possible but excruciating. She stood straight again just in time for Mr. Darcy to walk into the clearing. At his awestruck exhale, it was clear that he had not been there before either.

Mr. Darcy turned slowly, taking in the wonder of this secret place. To Elizabeth, this was itself a departure from his usual hauteur but even more odd was the wistful look he had on his face. People and their inner workings fascinated her and she was finding herself rather determined to understand this odd man's thoughts.

Before Elizabeth spoke, Mr. Darcy asked with reverence, "What is this place?"

"I believe it is the lover's glen that a previous tenant planted and situated for his wife." Answering the question in Mr. Darcy's raised eyebrow, she went on. "The story I have heard from some of the older ladies in the neighborhood was that Mr. Percival was devoted to his wife whose love for the outdoors was famous. This was their private outdoor sitting room of sorts but it was especially for Mrs. Percival's use."

Walking over to the tree where Elizabeth had found the bower, Mr. Darcy easily mounted the plank stairs and disappeared into the tree top. With the confusing man out of sight, Elizabeth rested against a nearby bench. The pain from her ankle was increasing and would soon make it impossible to walk back to the house. Slow desperation was penetrating her mind. Up above her, the sounds of Mr. Darcy taking in the panorama were clear.

"From here, one would almost think Hertfordshire could be Derbyshire!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed.

Startled by the feeling and emotion being expressed by this usually sombre man, Elizabeth couldn't help retorting, "Because Hertfordshire does not have it's own beauty?"

The lower branches parted to make way for Mr. Darcy's descending figure. Elizabeth watched as he discovered the broken step that she had recently fallen through. His eyes shot to meet Elizabeth's. She could not hold his gaze that seemed to communicate understanding, concern, and tenderness all at once. This man was supposed to be critical of her, not worried about her - especially after she had just been climbing a tree (which certainly was not on his list of an accomplished woman).

Long legs allowed him to easily skip the gap and quickly carried him to her side. Kneeling in front of her, he asked if she was hurt.

"I am perfectly fine," was the quick response.

"You will forgive me but I am not sure that is true," Mr. Darcy slowly stated.

"And how would you know, sir?" Elizabeth snapped.

"You are not the only studier of character, Miss Elizabeth."

"How precisely does my character tell you that I have said anything false?"

He paused for a moment looking at Elizabeth quizzically. "Well, perhaps it is less your character and the leaves and sticks that are stuck in your hair and the dirt on your skirt that gave you away." He illustrated the point by reaching over Elizabeth's shoulder and pulling a leaf from her hair.

Blushing fiercely as she realized she was found out, Elizabeth chewed on her lip for a moment. It was rather hard to focus as she realized Mr. Darcy was still intently staring at her. His concern was clear from his gaze. In this proximity, she was required to fully appreciate the attractiveness of the gentleman before her. A response was required from her now but that was going to be a bit of a mental challenge when her mind was preoccupied with the closeness of the man.

She attempted to sound arch. "Well then it would seem that you require more practice, Mr. Darcy. External evidence hardly suggests a firm grasp of character analysis."

"That is true," he conceded with a slow smile. "Let me try again. I am willing to wager my assistance to you that you are going to deny any injury, stand up, and walk in an attempt to dissuade me from being of any material help."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped unbecomingly, a situation she remedied almost instantly. Recovering quickly, she challenged him, "What if I was waiting for someone? Perhaps I have already been discovered and help on its way?"

It was a little bit of a challenge to control himself as Mr. Darcy observed the jaunt of Elizabeth's chin (which put her lips at such a kissable level) as she refused to lose this futile argument. Very well. He could have silly arguments just as well as she could if this was what she wanted.

"In that case, I will see you back at Netherfield." And so saying, he stood, turned, and strolled over to another bench in the glen. Pulling a small book out of his coat, Mr. Darcy made himself comfortable and began reading his small copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. It was a pleasant enough day that it was no trial to sit outdoors to read for the time being.

The only thing Elizabeth Bennet loved more than her sister was winning an argument. There were so few people who would even venture to debate with her anymore because she had exhausted her neighborhood's options for opponents. Although she was not ready to admit it, Elizabeth was not eager to lose so soon to a new acquaintance. One had to think of one's reputation. With that resolved, she knew she had to walk back to Netherfield on her own. Carefully, she stood and schooled her face into a neutral expression, bid Mr. Darcy good day, and turned towards the glen's entrance.

The first step wasn't so bad. This was manageable. The second step was also not excruciating. Taking some courage in the situation, Elizabeth moved through the branches and out into the woods. The terrain immediately became more difficult to navigate and her ankle could tell the difference. Even with the remnants of the path that was still usable, the pain shooting through her was evidence that it was still not the same as a designed clearing. Stopping, however, was not an option. She slowed considerably as she moved through this area and briefly glanced over her shoulder to make sure that she was still alone and Mr. Darcy had not decided to follow her.

A low moan escaped her tightly clenched teeth as her ankle protested the effort she was making to move on. Despite her determination to make it back to Netherfield on her own, her mind wandered back to the brief interaction with Mr. Darcy in the lover's glen. What made him think that she needed his help? He was literally the last person on earth that she would want to rely on! Although he was apparently a devoted friend and brother to hear the Bingleys tell it. And there was an integrity to the way that he refused to back down from her challenges - even if she knew that some of the discussions were merely attempting to bait him. Elizabeth also supposed she had to allow him to be fairly perceptive and at least a little skilled at deductive reasoning to understand that her appearance could only have been caused by a fall. Why had he knelt so close to her? He had made he his opinion of her quite clear - not tolerable and apparently not accomplished either. Thankfully, she reminded herself, his opinion did not matter in the least.

As her mind wandered through these thoughts, her concentration on walking wavered and the usually nimble lady's foot caught on a protruding root. Before she could fall though, Elizabeth discovered herself being stabilized by unfamiliar, strong arms. Without seeing the person, she knew the presence. "Are you alright?" came the deeply concerned inquiry.

Apparently Mr. Darcy had followed her. Resigning herself with a sigh, "No. My ankle is causing me some pain."

"I know," was the succinct reply.

For some reason that she could never fully explain, this answer angered Elizabeth. "Mr. Darcy, in such cases as these, it is the established mode, I believe, to express gratitude. And if I felt gratitude, I would now thank you. However, I have never sought your help and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. Your opinion of me has been quite clear since you have been in the neighborhood and if you would kindly unhand me, I will make my way back to the house." Her eyes flashed anger and Mr. Darcy's arms fell away as if Elizabeth were fire.

"I might expect to know why with so little concern for your own safety I am thus dismissed." Mr. Darcy knew his anger was inexplicable. She was everything lovely, intelligent, and she needed help, damn it. Why would she not just admit it?

"And I might ask why, with so little concern for anyone's opinion, you have come into a neighborhood you are so clearly determined to hate. From your first introduction here, you have not hidden how the ladies are _barely tolerable_ , the ladies lacking in accomplishment, and the society unvarying." Here, Elizabeth paused as she realized that her mother had said that very thing not very long ago and that she had actually agreed with Mr. Darcy on this point previously. There was a point to be made here and Elizabeth rushed on. "During my time here at Netherfield, you have engaged me in conversation only when you could illustrate the inappropriateness of my family, my education, and my person. Your help, now offered, is most unwelcome."

The gentleman's expression had changed rapidly throughout Elizabeth's speech. If one were to guess, anger had quickly given way to mortification. There were several long moments of silence as each of them processed what had just happened and attempted to work out what would come next.

With a great deal of hesitation, Mr. Darcy spoke first. "You heard that?" It almost sounded as if he were the one whose looks had been disparaged.

Elizabeth just managed to nod. Reluctantly, she knew that his comments had been difficult for her to deal with. Despite her brave face, she was intensely aware of everyone's belief that Jane was the beautiful one. Usually she did not mind, she even agreed. But no one had ever pointed out her lack so directly. And certainly not from someone so well qualified to know the world at large and compare her to it.

Mr. Darcy scrubbed his face with this hands and took a few steps back. He paced back and forth. Elizabeth put out her hand and leant on the nearest tree (which happened to be the same blasted one that tripped her) with a strained gasp. Her ankle would not last long if she did not try and get back to Netherfield soon.

Finally turning to face her, Mr. Darcy began talking as if he could not hold the words in. "Miss Bennet, you have every right to be angry with me. Those words were meant to put off an overly insistent friend, not to be applied to anyone at that assembly...least of all you. That assembly had not finished before I thought that you were one of the handsomest women I had ever seen."

For the second time that afternoon, Elizabeth's jaw dropped most unbecomingly. There was nothing she could say.

Mr. Darcy continued. "That evening had been my first return to society after a rather...difficult family experience earlier this year that has left me cynical and uncharitable. It is hardly an excuse but I would like to throw myself on your mercy. I know I do not speak often but I have been more comfortable here than I have been in many months. You are an intelligent woman and display vast knowledge every time you speak. Even when someone says something ridiculous, you are forbearing and encouraging rather than critical and denigrating. Which is such a rare quality as Miss B-." He caught himself quickly. "As certain members of my acquaintance often illustrate."

The longer Mr. Darcy spoke, the less Elizabeth attempted to remedy her gaping jaw. Silence, at first understandable, stretched on.

Mr. Darcy stood nervously observing the woman in front of him, hoping and praying for a response - any response! Just a short while ago, he had knelt in front of her offering assistance in walking. Now he was (proverbially) kneeling again but this time to beg mercy. What exactly had happened to compel him to speak as he just did, he wasn't sure. But Elizabeth seemed to be dragging the truth from him without trying as only his oldest and closest friends did.

Elizabeth stood still. What exactly was happening, she still could not quite grasp. Apparently the man who had always appeared so proud and critical was actually an admirer. Immediately after that thought was relief that her mother was nowhere nearby to hear this - what she would do with the knowledge that one of the richest men in England thought her daughter intelligent and beautiful.

In the midst of her relief came another feeling, barely a conscious thought. Mr. Darcy admired her. And that thought felt like weightlessness and heavy pressure all at the same time. It was feather lightness and… nervous joy? She could hardly tell. Slowly the passage of time made its way into her awareness. And the fidgeting of Mr. Darcy standing across from her.

"I thank you for your compliments," came Elizabeth's voice, sounding strained, foreign to herself. Mr. Darcy's attention riveted on her face. "It would seem that I misjudged you, sir."

Darcy couldn't be sure but there was definite hesitation in her voice, perhaps a hint of regret? "It would also seem that I did not perform in such a way as to garner approval."

Elizabeth, slowly beginning to know herself again, grimly agreed. "No, not precisely, sir."

Darcy's wry smile matched the sentiment. "It would seem that being pleasant company is not one of my strong suits."

"Do not discredit yourself too much. Your conversation is very stimulating, if a little insulting."

Mr. Darcy started, "You find my conversation stimulating?"

Elizabeth timidly said, "Whether you approve or not, my education has equipped me for...rather different situations than I usually find myself in. I would not give it up for anyone or anything but I may be a little too eager for verbal combat when an intelligent person comes into the neighborhood."

Mr. Darcy was grinning widely by the time Elizabeth finished speaking. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Your opinion is one well worth the earning."

Elizabeth's blush was very becoming. "I do not claim to be an expert in any matter, sir. There are many people whose approbation is more valuable."

"Few people would be willing to stay and clear as many misunderstandings as you have while standing on an injured ankle."

Elizabeth grimaced, glancing down. "I would hope not. It does not make for ideal circumstances." The pain was now severe.

Tentatively Mr. Darcy offered his arm, "Would you allow me to assist you back to Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I would be grateful for your assistance, Mr. Darcy."

With Elizabeth leaning heavily on his arm, the pair made it out of the woods rather quickly. Smoother ground made the going easier but Elizabeth's pain was still increasing. Even pain could not keep a small laugh from escaping her.

Glancing at the lady on his arm, Mr. Darcy asked what it was that amused her.

"One of the stories that were told about the Percivals was that they were so in love and loved Netherfield so much that their ghosts still wandered the property, especially their lover's glen. Supposedly, more than one couple in Meryton has had their arguments resolved with the helpful presence of these ghosts."

"And you suppose that perhaps we have discovered our misunderstandings because of a similar force?"

"You are very quick, Mr. Darcy. I am not inclined to believe in any such ghost but it is an intriguing theory." A slight gasp followed that statement. "Mr. Darcy, I apologize. I did not mean to suggest that we wer-, that you wer-."

Mr. Darcy's chuckle stopped her stuttering. "If I have learned anything today, Miss Elizabeth, it is that I would never presume anything in our acquaintance. But he will be a fortunate man who wins your hand."

At this precise moment, Elizabeth's ankle had finally had all it could take and gave way. For the second time that day, Mr. Darcy's hands found their way around her waist.

Elizabeth's wry smile was mirrored by Darcy's smirk.

"It would seem, Mr. Darcy, that someone or something is determined that I absolutely change my opinion of you this afternoon. You have turned almost every one of my previous assumptions on their head."

"You will forgive me, but my opinion has been rather unchanged today. My understanding of other people's thoughts has grown tremendously though. Hopefully to everyone's mutual benefit."

As he spoke, Elizabeth managed to hobble (with Mr. Darcy's assistance) to a nearby bench in the garden. A rather unladylike woosh of air escaped her as she sat down.

Once she was settled, Darcy began pacing in front of her. A bemused Elizabeth watched as long as she could until finally, "Mr. Darcy, you are making me dizzy and wearing out the path."

Stopping suddenly, the man turned and faced Elizabeth with apprehension. He approached the bench and settled next to her tentatively. "Miss Elizabeth, may I ask you a question?"

"I would imagine that given what we have already discussed today, that you certainly have that freedom."

Whatever anger or confusion she had had earlier, her wit was clearly returned to her. Smiling to hide the sudden queasiness he was feeling, Darcy blurted, "Would you allow me to court you?"

For what she could only hope was the last time, Elizabeth's jaw dropped most unbecomingly. Of all the questions that she thought he might ask her, that was certainly not one of them. She started to speak but stopped. She pondered. And then, shyly, she spoke. "I believe a courtship might help us continue to unearth and correct a great many more misunderstandings."

It took a minute for her meaning to finally penetrate his residual apprehension at the sudden request of a courtship but when it finally did the look of joy that suffused his face only increased the handsomeness that Elizabeth had earlier found so distracting. His joy was quickly expressed by the earnest kissing of her hand which he had grasped unconsciously.

"Perhaps we should return to the house. You need an apothecary and I need to go and speak to your father." Mr. Darcy's enthusiasm was endearing and contagious.

Elizabeth laughed, a clear, tinkling sound. "Very well, sir. I concede both of your points." As they began to make their way to Netherfield, Elizabeth laughed again, a more subdued, bemused sound.

Without knowing the influence she already had on him, Darcy teased the lady leaning heavily on his arm, "What is so amusing, madam? I certainly hope it is not the irony of the greatest walker in Hertfordshire spraining her ankle."

Elizabeth, dearly loving to laugh, was thankful that even if she would be house bound, at least, she could still laugh. "You are correct, Mr. Darcy. That is a sad truth. However, that is not what was amusing me. I was just contemplating how interesting it is that the rumors of ghosts that help star crossed lovers always seemed like silly embellishment to me. But given the rather astounding progression of conversations and information that we have had this afternoon, it certainly makes one wonder if such a thing is possible."

Seriously, he replied, "Perhaps our meeting in that long lost lover's glen was exactly what we needed to be honest with each other. I cannot think of another way that we might possibly have had such revelations. Apart from a rather disastrous scenario where I foolishly proposed marriage before knowing your thoughts, only to be rejected in the worst way possible."

"That would have been disastrous! Good heavens, perhaps we should thank whatever stars, ghosts, or lover's glens it is that this is what happened." Here Elizabeth paused. Slowly, she said, "I am not fond of being wrong. And I am very thankful for an opportunity to attempt to remedy the opinions that have clearly been wrong about you."

Mr. Darcy could do nothing other than smile and gaze rather intensely at Elizabeth. But the gentle squeeze of her hand on his arm was response enough. As they finally reached the house, he promised himself that if she ever agreed to become his wife, he would have a lover's glen planted and arranged immediately. Such a place was clearly magical and he could only hope that theirs would be as blest.


End file.
